One day, I'm married, living in the triangle, and working as a head nurse at one of the country's best hospitals. The next, I've shed a 175 pounds of idiot and find myself encountering ghosts, dragons, and pixies while taking care of a sick patient. Losing my sanity didn't seem like the worst thing to happen since I moved back home with my mom and nana.

"Happily Ever After" wasn't supposed to come with a do-over option. But when my husband of 20 years packs up and heads for greener pastures, and my son heads away to college, that's exactly what my midlife becomes. A do-over. This time, though, I plan to do things differently. Age is just a number, after all, and at 40 I'm ready to carve my own path. Eager for a fresh start, I make a somewhat unorthodox decision and move to a tiny town in the Sierra foothills.

I knew hot flashes were supposed to be hot, but I didn't expect flames. One day I'm in anger management, normalizing the cordial hate between me and my husband. The next, we're divorced, and he has taken both our house and the business we built together. I'm 40 years old and living above our empty restaurant, plotting my next move. And then the world around starts lighting up - literally catching on fire. I'm starting to think my defining characteristic may not be my snark or my cupcake-baking prowess, but spontaneous combustion.

For my forty-fifth birthday, I planned to treat myself to a spa day with my bestie. But instead, my late husband's insurance broker drops by to let me know that not only am I still widowed but my husband's insurance policies are being paid to his other wife-and his other family. The next thing I know, I'm being romanced by an Indiana Jones wannabe who arrives like a dervish to sweep me off my feet. One thing leads to another, but before anything happens, Indy goes missing, the place is trashed, and I've got myself a glowing snake tattoo that seems to be talking to me about magic.

They say life begins at 40.... But when infertility led to my divorce, it seemed more like the end. When I’d rather be at home in my sweats binging '80s movies, my dad begs me to go to Carlton with him for moral support as he presents my much younger sister to their unmated Alpha.

Sparrow “Ro” Meadowcroft is about to get the promotion she’s always dreamed of–curator of the museum where she works. She loves old things and the history that surrounds them, so when a patron leaves some items to the museum, Ro is eager to dig in. The sword in the stone that comes with those items is clearly a joke. A well-made but obvious replica meant to be a conversation starter. Why anyone would think that belonged in the museum is beyond her, but she can’t resist taking a crack at it and finding out if she’s the chosen one. And as it turns out...she is.

Divorced, desperate, and destitute, former restaurateur Defiance Dayne finds out she has been bequeathed a house by a complete stranger. She is surprised, to say the least, and her curiosity gets the better of her. She leaves her beloved Phoenix and heads to one of the most infamous towns in America: Salem, Massachusetts. She's only there to find out why a woman she's never met would leave her a house, a veritable castle that has seen better days.

I’m half-witch, half-faery, and facing dangers as real as the ache in my bad knee. Ibuprofen and caffeine keep me going, and I could do this for the rest of my life. Whoever thinks my family home is an easy mark better take notice: The new Guardian in town isn’t going down without a fight. After all, she’s already learned to let go of her simple existence and believe in the extraordinary power inside of her. What could possibly stop her now?

When Dani convinces her five sisters to sink everything they have into purchasing a dilapidated old plantation, it seems like a great idea at the time. They need a site to expand their business, and none of them are strangers to the occasional escapade. Little do they know buying Willowberry Plantation House will be the biggest adventure of their lives. As New Orleans natives, the sisters aren't at all surprised to find a ghost haunting their new house. What they don't see coming is their discovery that the land was cursed by a wrathful witch centuries earlier.

Widow and empty nester Ava Harper never dreamed of turning 40 without the love of her life. Nor did she know she would bury her favorite aunt, who raised her after the death of her mother, a few years later. Then again, she doesn't have the power of foresight. No, her powers are much darker. With her only son off to college and her life savings depleted, Ava returns home to Shipton Harbor, Maine. When an old friend of the family turns up dead, Ava must delve deep into the powers she's repressed all her adult life to find the killer. Now she must open up to her own wells of dark magic.

Librarian Sylvia Ashe knows nothing about her past, having grown up without a father and a mother who refused to discuss him. When she stumbles upon a diary that suggests she's descended from magicians, she's skeptical. After all, magicians are special, and she's just an ordinary woman who loves books. She seeks answers from a member of the most prominent family of magicians, but she quickly learns that finding the truth won't be easy, especially when he turns out to be as artless as her, and more compelling and dangerous than books.

Alys Stevens is running out of familiar road. Approaching the same age as her mother’s death and muddling through a messy divorce, the 40-something home renovator has lost the control she so deeply craves. So when her siblings show up demanding a girls' night full of fun, the three brew up an ancient family cocktail...and accidentally unleash powerful magic.

In 1876, we were called to Savannah, Georgia to help with an infestation of demons. If we'd known what we, my wife Evangeline, and I, were walking into, we'd have run the other way. As it was, we shared tea with a vampire and stepped into a battle we did not understand until it was too late.

They say that by the age of 40 you should have gained the skills and experience to have a better life. But the only thing I've gained is a job promotion to permanent desk jockey until retirement. I thought I escaped my mediocre destiny when I met my husband...until he died on our honeymoon and a series of unfortunate events left me with a strange mark on my body and my husband's corpse stolen right out of the funeral home!

Thirty-nine was a fantastic year. I was married to the man I loved. I had a body that worked without creaking. My grandma, who raised me, was still healthy, and life was pretty damned good. But as they say, all good things come to an end. One year later, I’m a widow. My joints are starting to ache. Gram is in the nursing home, and dead people think my home is some kind of supernatural bed-and-breakfast. Gluing body parts onto semi-transparent people has become a side job - deceased people I’m not even sure are actually there.